


The Voice of Serendipity

by Lover of all things Bard (RemiMew)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: ANd then they sexed, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Geralt's subconscious might be an old lady?, I'm Bad At Tagging, Jaskier is always on his mind, M/M, geralt is a stubborn idiot, jaskier is soft boy, making up is hard to do when you're an idiot, rating change due to sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemiMew/pseuds/Lover%20of%20all%20things%20Bard
Summary: Serendipity[ ser-uh n-dip-i-tee ]nounAn aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.Geralt is haunted....well, it would be the easiest way to describe it. A Feminine voice haunts him, telling him to go find "His Bard" before something bad happens and he is unable to apologize for his actions on the Mountain. Geralt tracks down the Bard to Novigrad, where the face off of their lives is about to go down.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 288





	1. Chapter 1

He hadn't slept. Not since the night in Yen's tent on the mountain. Not since the confrontation of the fact he's lose her no matter what. Not since he bellowed at Jaskier....oh, god, Jaskier....  
Geralt growled in frustration as he ran a hand through his unruly hair, dulled from it's normal snowy shade by a week of forest camping and no baths other than streams between hunts to get the worst of the gore off. He needed sleep. The thought came unbidden of the last time he couldn't sleep....the djinn had been a HORRIBLE idea, but he had been delirious from lack of sleep and thought it a fantastic idea at the time. But on the heels of the thought came the memory of on the mountain, bellowing his anger and pain at Jaskier, blaming HIM for every fuck up that had happened to him in the last decade. The Child surprise, Yennefer, the djinn...all of it.

"So a Witcher CAN feel after all. How interesting...." A voice whispered to Geralt. The Witcher drew his silver blade, spinning in a circle to catch who spoke. A soft bark of laughter echoed through the surrounding trees, making it impossible to pinpoint where the sound was coming from.

"A Witcher can feel regret. Hmmm.... Then maybe there is hope for you yet, Geralt of Rivia. Do you regret your hasty words to your Bard, White Wolf?" The voice was feminine...not young, but not old either. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Geralt kept spinning around, eyes looking for anything magical, or monstrous...but found nothing. Even his medallion didn't give him a sign of what was going on. Maybe I've finally lost my mind, Geralt thought to himself, sword still poised to strike if anything were to appear.

"You laid the blame on a sweet soul who did nothing more than care for you, call you friend. Who was at fault for causing you to call the law of surprise in Citra, hmmm? Who was it who's wish cursed the Bard, requiring you to find a mage? Who was it who used the last wish to bind the sorceress to you, hmmm? You laid the blame at the feet of an innocent soul.....and he took it on himself, Witcher." The voice now sounded angry, furious with the Witcher for his actions...his ineptitude when feelings were involved. Geralt growled and yelled out,"I did not ask him to be my friend! I did not ask him to follow me, nor did I ask him to drag me into his crazed plans!"

The voice, soft, almost like a grandmother speaking to a grandchild, responded with a simple,"Yet you let him call you his friend. Yet you didn't stop him from following. You could have galloped away, yet never did. You could have said no...."

Geralt felt it like a gut punch. The feeling of having something so obvious pointed out yet you hadn't seen it....it hurt. 

"You could have let him die a dozen times over....yet you didn't. He means more to you than you yourself realized, Witcher. You need to make amends... Before it's too late to...."

Geralt slowly lowered his sword, more from the fact the weight of the whispered words were weighing him down. Jaskier.....where was the Bard now? Was he safe? He had a bad habit of getting into trouble. Geralt growled a little as he felt it, the niggling sensation of worry he got when jaskier was out of sight for too long, or it suddenly got too silent when Jaskier was constantly being noisy. It had been a week of silence and Jaskier being out of sight....

"Your Bard might need you, Witcher. What are you going to do about it?" The voice whispered softly against his ear. Geralt snarled, worry spreading through his chest like a poison. What if Jaskier DID need his help? What if the imbecilic Bard got himself in a bind and got injured? The thoughts started chasing each other until Geralt snapped,"I'll fucking find him!"

*******  
Geralt jolts awake, having fallen asleep against a tree, sleep having finally claimed the Witcher. The dream of the matronly voice still fresh in his memory and his promise to find Jaskier. The Witcher gets to his feet, Roach not too far away, let's out a snort at her master. He pats Roach on the flank before pulling himself up into her saddle. "Come on, Roach. We got a Bard to find."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice is still haunting Geralt as he and Roach race to Novigrad to find Jaskier.

Geralt rode hard and fast, the urge to find Jaskier like a venom in his veins and finding the Bard would be the only cure. The voice; soft, feminine yet held a hint of command, still haunted Geralt. He could hear her whisper, “Faster, Witcher. You don’t know what trouble the Little Lark might be in. Need to find him, quickly…”

“I’m going as fast as Roach can go without dropping dead, ya damn hag…” Geralt growled between gritted teeth as he leaned low in the saddle, bowed over Roach’s neck as he let her have her head to go full speed. The mare didn’t not disappoint as her gait lengthened, almost flying over the rough terrain as she ran hard for her master. Geralt could drop the reins and let Roach run free and the mare would still fly for him, knowing the urgency that thrums through her master.

You’d think the Witcher would question where this voice was coming from. It had followed him from the forest where he had his surprise nap, nipping at his proverbial heels, urging him on, to drive faster, to use all the skills he possessed to hunt down his wayward Bard.

He no longer felt the exhaustion that had been dogging him. The need to find Jaskier, to make sure the dolt was ok and in one piece, gave Geralt all the energy he needed to complete his quest. When he did find his Bard….when did he start thinking of Jaskier as HIS Bard? The Witcher shook his head and continued thinking, when he found the Bard and made sure he was ok, he would move on.

“Are you going to move on and leave him again? Without making things right between you? Are you going to let him keep feeling raw and hurting? Are you not going to apologize, Witcher??” The voice nagged him, disappointment nearly dripping from it as it spoke in whispers to him.

For some strange reason, the disappointment in the voice made the regret in his chest pain him…like he was letting someone else down besides Jaskier by not swallowing his pride and apologizing for his temper and his mean spirited words on the mountain. He knew Jaskier did not deserve his venomous words spoken in misery and rage. It was his own fault for jokingly claiming the Law of Surprise that got him the Child. It was HIS folly for hunting for a Djinn rather than finding a healer and getting a sleeping draft. It was HIS last wish that bound him to Yennefer, the beautiful yet complex sorceress. It was his fault Jaskier nearly lost his life more times that Geralt wanted to think about….all because he couldn’t ride off and leave the dolt on the side of the road somewhere because he worried about him.

“I said I would apologize, damn it. I meant it. I just think…” he started, not even wondering when he started answering the voice out loud as the horse under him galloped as fast as she could. The voice interrupted him.

“That is your problem, Witcher. You think you know what is best for your Bard yet never asked him what HE desired. He tried to tell you on the mountain, but you were too taken with the sorceress to really hear him…” The voice snapped, infuriated with the Witcher. Geralt could feel it’s fury as if it were a hot oil poured over his skin.

As Roach galloped full speed toward Novigrad, Geralt muttered under his breath, “I’ll apologize. I have to find the damned Bard first….hopefully soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems this is going to be a bit more than I planned originally, but I am not complaining! I keep getting mroe ideas. Damn voice haunts me too. "WRITE MORE, WENCH!" Ok, OK! Damn....bossy phantom voices.


	3. Chapter 3

Novigrad.... People from the small villages surrounding the sprawling walled Free City thought that life inside the walls was all milk and honey. That the city was fragrant with the smell of rich perfumes and rare flowers. Little did the common folk outside the hulking walls of the city realize that the grand City of Novigrad....the crown jewel of the port cities in the North, REEKED.

The aroma of piss and human offal, sweat and animal dung, of unwashed bodies and thick clouds of perfume trying to cover the stench of decay and ruin enveloped the city like a impenetrable miasma. You didn't inhale the stink of Novigrad, you swallowed it, letting it's thick fragrant decay coat your tongue and the back of your throat, a sweet wine turned vinegar.

He slowed Roach to a gentle trot as they drew closer to Glory Gate, one of the six gates into the Free City. The pungent aroma of the city was as if Geralt got sucker punched in the nose. Roach let out a very unhappy knicker, to which Geralt leaned forward and patted her sleek neck. "I don't blame you, girl. Crookback Bog smelled better than this and that's saying something." Roach huffed, as if she was in agreement with her master.

"Your Little Lark is close, Witcher. He did not deserve your rancor. Find him before it's too late to make things right..." The Voice that had been incessant in reminding the Witcher time after time his shortcomings with the Bard and how he owed the younger man an apology, whispered against Geralt's ear, a phantom that was personally haunting him.

The Witcher growled under his breath as he grumbled, "WHO ARE YOU, Voice? You dog me like a Noon wraith in the field. What do you get out of this if I do find the Bard? Why is it so important to you?" The Witcher knew if anyone saw him, would think him insane, muttering to himself...that or think he was speaking to his horse, which he was known to do more often than not.

The Voice, Geralt thought, was not one he had heard before. It was feminine, he knew that much. The pitch did not give way to the age of the voice, only that the voice was feminine and had some strange vested interest in the Bard being apologized to, as if it was a matter of life or death.

Life or death....that thought sent a jolt of ice along Geralt's veins as he nudged his knee against Roach's side to get her to trot a bit faster through the gate. There was something about the cadence of the Voice that made Geralt want to hurry, to find Jaskier, make sure the idiot Bard was in one piece and that he was SAFE. "He better be safe...That man has a habit of finding trouble, usually by sticking his sausage in the wrong pantry." Geralt murmured as Roach approached the first inn after the gate, the one in Hierarch Square.

After making sure Roach was taken care of in the stable, paying extra to make sure she got the good oats as well as some sweet carrots for a treat, Geralt swung the saddle bags over a shoulder and marched to the door of the inn. As he pushed it open, the sound of folks talking and laughing assaulted his ears, but the Witcher just grunted and made his way to the counter. He planned on renting a room for the night and spend most of the rest of the day searching the city for sign of Jaskier. Though the idea of a soft bed and a scalding hot bath didn't hurt either. The innkeeper seemed the nice sort, didn't give Geralt a glare of disgust or fear, just took the coin for the room and handed Geralt the key. 

"Has there been a Bard in here recently? About this tall..." Geralt motions to about his shoulder for how tall Jaskier was to him," Brown hair, bright colored doublets, sings about Witchers?"

"Oh, Aye. I've heard of a Bard singing about a Witcher, but weren't here. I heard he was doing shows up near St Gregory Bridge at the inn up there. That or he's been seen about the Square. Though that was a couple days ago. Haven't heard much since then. Might have left the City already." the innkeeper said, after Geralt slipped him an extra crown for the information. Geralt sighed, nodding thanks.

The Witcher walked up the stairs leading to his room, only to toss his saddle bags inside so he could go check and see if Jaskier was still at the other inn or not. He stopped himself when he looked in the mirror near the door. He frowned some. He looked a wreck. His face dirty, hair a darkened grey from it's usually bright snow, and his eyes....when did his eyes get so haunted looking? Might explain when he asked for a room, the innkeeper didn't give him much trouble. A haunted looking Witcher is not something one sees on the daily. Also, since when did he CARE how he looked? The feeling of confusion and frustration making Geralt growl low in his chest, only to grab a rag next to the wash basin by the door and do a quick wipe across his face at least. Didn't have time of a bath right now, if he wanted to find Jaskier. He stops, lifts an arm and sniffs, grimacing at the pungent aroma. Well, maybe a bath wouldn't hurt, but later. Jaskier was more important right now. Had to find the damnable bard before it was too late to make amends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon, my lovelies. Soon our dense Witcher will see Jaskier and what fun I have planned for when THAT happens!


	4. Jaskier's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter is in Jaskier’s point of view. Song lyrics are from the song “Say Something” by A Great Big World & Christina Aguilera.

He sat on a stool, his finger nimbly strumming a quiet tune. The patrons of the inn's tavern were quiet, enthralled by the music the Bard had been playing. The air was sweet, yet an edge of heartache floated through the air as the Bard's voice breaks as he starts to sing. 

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

_I'll be the one, if you want me to_

_Anywhere, I would've followed you_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_...

The patrons listen, still and silent as statues, enchanted by the sound of heartbreak in the Bard's voice, as if his song wove a spell over them. The Bard's eyes were closed, not even looking at the patrons, just letting the song flow from his lips...sweet yet sharp with pain and grief of love lost.

He yearned for nothing more than to be the one that Geralt had wanted. He thought he had proven he would follow Geralt anywhere, even into the jaws of death; which, to be honest, the Bard had done more than once over the decade he had trailed after the Witcher. The Witcher made his feelings plainly known on the mountain though....

_And I will swallow my pride_

_You're the one that I love_

_And I'm saying goodbye_

It had been so painful to go back to the camp and pack his things to leave before Geralt came down. But he wasn't going to beg. (Liar!) He had pride (What Pride??) and he swallowed it like a bitter potion, gathering his pack and heading down the mountain alone that day. He would not Beg. (Yes you would, stop lying to yourself!) He hadn't stayed in the village at the base of the mountain, but made quickly for Novigrad, wanting to lose himself in the crowd, also knowing the likelihood of him running into the Witcher was nil. (You would throw yourself at him and beg if you saw him!)

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

_And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you_

_And anywhere, I would have followed you_

_Oh, oh, oh, oh say something, I'm giving up on you_

_Say something, I'm giving up on you_

_Say something...._

On the last line of the song, the Bard's voice finally cracks, a quiet sob escaping his lips before he managed to gasp a deep breath and rein his emotions under control, pressing his lips together in a thin line, biting down on them from the inside. The song he sang had been something he'd not planned on singing, but someone requested a song about love, and this was what spilled from his lips instead. 

A lass in the back of the room started clapping quietly, and soon others joined, the clapping growing as folks started tossing in "That was beautiful!" and "Oh, Master Bard, that was amazing..." 

Jaskier managed a watery smile as he bowed his head to his audience in thanks. He cleared his throat a few times before lifting his wrist to wipe at his own eyes, letting out a self depreciating chuckle as he said,"Ok! Let's try to do a bit better than that. I apologize for being so melancholy with that song, my dear patrons! What shall I sing next for you?"

Some of the kind folks waved off another song, offering to buy the Bard a pint instead. Others jeered a little over the sappy song, only to quickly get silenced by glares from the patrons who adored the bard's heartbreaking song. The tavern awoke from under the spell finally, quickly drinks were being ordered, folks talking over each other, coins ringing out as the fell near the Bard for his performance. Jaskier just smiled sadly, deciding maybe he did need a break, scooping up the coins tossed his way and slipping them into his coin purse. He leans his lute against the stool and moves toward the bar to order a pint. As he brushes past patrons, some patting him on the back for the song in empathy, Jaskier felt something. He felt watched.

The Bards head whipped around, scanning the room, but was too crowded for him to see who was staring at him, but he KNEW that feeling. He KNEW the feeling of having eyes bore into him, watching him, watching over him. His heart kicked up into a full gallop as he pushed his way past the patrons to grab his lute and darted for the stairs to head to his room....to hide.

"Nonononono, nope. He is NOT here. You are just imagining things, Jaskier..." he muttered to himself as he nearly tripped over his feet in his panicked dash to his room. He pushed the door to his room he had been renting for the last few days and stumbled in, slamming the door shut with more strength than it really needed. The Bard panted as he set the lute down near the door, and turned to head to the bed to sit when he stops dead in his tracks. Even prey know when to stand still when a predator is nearby and at this very moment, a White Wolf sat on Jaskier's bed, watching him. Legs crossed, arms resting on his knee, eyes that gleamed like highly polished gold staring a hole into the Bard, a tight lipped look on the face Jaskier never thought he would see again.

"......Hello, Jaskier....."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new take on boot to the head and Jaskier has a mean right hook apparently.

....The last thing The Witcher expected was to have a lute suddenly and unceremoniously flung at his head following a most comical yet ear shattering squeak from a certain Bard. Well, maybe it should have been the first thing he expected, now that he had a chance to think about it. The lute's round body was what connected with his face with a solid thud with a few musical notes vibrated from the strings at the impact. He caught the lute though before it hit the floor, despite being caught by surprise at the sudden violence from his normally more flight than fight bard. The Witcher just sat on the edge of the bed, blinking confusedly at the bard, who at the moment was standing, ragged breathing and thundering pulse being the only sounds for a few moments. The Bard also seemed shocked at his actions as well, but he was quicker to recover as he yelled, voice raised an octave as panic clawed at his throat,"No...nonono....nonononono, you can NOT be here. This is just a figment of my....my imagination....." The bard ranted, pacing in the small, cramped area near the door, keeping the way to escape in easy reach, Geralt noticed.

"A Doppler! Yes, a Doppler....because....because there is NO WAY....No way on this Goddess green earth...."the Bard's voice becoming more and more frantic as he spoke, "That GERALT....Geralt of Rivia....would be sitting calmly on the edge of my bed....ho-holding my lute....." The Bard stopped pacing and stared at the Witcher, eyes glassy and huge, pupils dilated to the point the black nearly swallowed all the sky blue. In a small voice, the bard squeaks,"May I have my lute back, please?"

Geralt slowly extended the hand holding the lute, only to ask, his voice low, trying to speak calmly to the shaken bard as he would if Roach was spooked, "Are you going to throw it at my head again, Little Lark?"

Jaskier, despite the suddenly sharp stab of pain that flared in his chest at hearing Geralt use that nickname, he grabbed his lute and hugged it to himself as if it were a stuffed toy. "I....I don't know yet."

Geralt nodded, doing everything he could think of to not startle the bard further. He didn't want Jaskier t run, not that he would blame the man if he turned and ran out the door right now. He folded his hands in his lap as he gazed up at the Bard. It had only been a week, yet the bard looked worn thin. Had he done that to the Bard by being so cruel or had the Bard looked like that before and Geralt just never noticed? Geralt frowned at this, realizing he had been a horrible friend if he hadn't noticed that Jaskier was....

So pissed....as the Witcher looked up, a frown still on his face, only to meet a very stormy look on the bard's visage. Oh yes, there was a storm brewing now in those darkened sky eyes. When the Bard spoke, for once, it was in a lower tone, causing the Witcher to stare at him and listen. 

"What the fuck are you DOING here, Geralt? Here to twist the dagger so more? See if you can make me bleed some more? See if you can make me cry for you some more? I never knew you to be a sadist, Witcher. I guess I was wrong to think I saw emotions from you....You don't have emotions. You are like a fucking Doppler. You copy, but you have no real idea the truth behind them..." The Bard hissed out between gritted teeth, trying hard to hide the fact that yes, he was bleeding again from seeing those golden eyes staring at him, seeing that hulking man sitting there and act like he actually gave a damn.

It was nearly more than the Bard could bare, but he would be DAMNED if he let the Witcher know exactly how much he wanted to die at this moment....because dying meant not feeling the agony rip at his chest like so many claws. Dying meant not living day to day, hour to hour, wondering if the Witcher was ok or if he had finally tangled with a monster that was too big, too fast, too strong for the Witcher and his potions to defeat. Dying meant no longer facing the idea of moving on without Geralt by his side.

Geralt stared at Jaskier as the Bard snarled at him, the rage in the bard's voice barely contained, but the Witcher was observant in ways that still annoyed Jaskier. He saw how the Bard held himself; the faint, nearly unnoticeable shudder the Bard tried to hide, the eyes just this side of too glassy, the near death grip the bard had on the lute. There was anger there, most definitely, but the Witcher could also see the bard was in pain. Emotional pain this side of physical....and Geralt swallowed hard as he came to terms with the fact he was the one who made the Bard feel this way.

"....Jaskier...."Geralt started, slowly standing up as he said the bard's name. Because he wasn't expecting it, the right hook to his jaw surprised the Witcher as much as the lute to the face earlier did, though a bit more so since he wasn't exactly stable on his feet at that moment in time. The Witcher actually fell back, missing the edge of the mattress and scraped his back against the bedframe as his fell on his ass on the floor instead.

The room was silent for nearly a minute, the Witcher sitting in surprise on the floor and the Bard staring dumbfounded at his fist, eyes moving back and forth between the Witcher on the floor and his fist. Geralt looked up at Jaskier, the look on his face was one of surprise, confusion, and just a hint of humor at the whole damn thing. "Jaskier? Is your fist ok?"

"FUCKING OW!!" the Bard yelled, the spell cast by him socking Geralt in the jaw broke when the Witcher spoke, making the Bard realize his fist REALLY FUCKING HURT. He set the lute down and cradled his fist, only to glare at the Witcher, who still sat on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet. Eyes locked on each other, the Bard tried hard to stay angry, but failed as he saw the humor shining in the Geralt's golden eyes. A quiet chuckle escaped the bard, almost a hiccup of laughter, only to be joined by the Witcher, who's deep rumbling laugh made the Bard smile slightly.

"I'm.....I'm sorry, Jaskier. I.....I had no right....to blame you for my own stupidity..." the Witcher started to speak quietly, his voice a low rumble of thunder on the horizon. 

The Bard missed the sound so much and it had only been a month by this point. Goddess help him, but he was smitten with this idiot and he knew, deep down in the fibers of his very soul, he would Never not be able to forgive Geralt. The Bard offered a hand to the Witcher to help him get off the floor where he STILL sat. "Easier to apologize to someone you hurt dearly when you are looking them in the eye, I do believe, Witcher..." The Bard grumbled, not wanting to forgive him JUST yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I KNOW! I ended it on a cliffhanger again! But I promise, next chapter, there shall be some smooches.....maybe some smut if I am feeling the urge to write it tomorrow, but DEFINITELY smutty smut in chapter 7.....


	6. Chapter 6

The Bard and the Witcher shared a meal at The Golden Sturgeon, neutral ground, as it were. They ate their meal in a semi uncomfortable silence, only SEMI because they were both relieved the other had agreed to the meal together. The Bard found is slightly funny that the Witcher watched him warily now, especially when he had a fork and knife in hand. Though at one point, Jaskier huffed in exasperation and muttered at Geralt, "What is it? Why do you keep staring?" 

Geralt shrugged slightly, Jaskier swearing he saw a ghost of a smile hit the Witcher's lips for a split second before he replied, "In case you decide hitting me with a lute and your fist wasn't enough. You might decide to fork me instead...."

The bard sputtered at first, for a moment mishearing the Witcher, only to groan and covered his face with the palm of a hand, "You said FORK, ok....ok....yeah. I get it."

When Jaskier finally dropped his hand from his face to look at Geralt, he nearly bust out laughing because of the look on the Witcher's face. For those who did not know the Witcher well, they would just assume it was his normal stony face, but to Jaskier, the Witcher's face was one of utter confusion and a little bit something Jaskier couldn't quite put his finger on. The confusion though, it was priceless to the Bard. Seeing Geralt looking like a confused puppy was something that Jaskier would always prize highly.

"What is it, Geralt? You seem to have a question you want to ask..." the bard chuckled, not quite managing to contain his mirth at seeing the look.

The Witcher's eyebrows were high on his forehead when the Bard chuckled, but the look settled into his normal resting stone face as he muttered, "I didn't mean it to sound like that. I didn't even think you....." the Witcher making rude hand gestures that anyone else would have taken offense to, "....you know....with men."

The Bard just chuckled more at the Witcher's lack of wanting to come out and say the word Fuck in this instance, since it did seem to be his FAVORITE word in his somewhat limited vocabulary. A sly smirk crosses the Bard's lips as he leans forward, his voice going low and velvety, as if he was trying to seduce one of his many court ladies, "Are you asking me if I have ever fucked men, Geralt? Are you asking to know if I was the fucker or the fuckee?"

The Witcher glared hard at the Bard, who was trying so very very hard not to burst at the seams in laughter, for those who DID know the Witcher well, would notice the telltale tinge of pink at his ear tips, the only place the Witcher ever seemed to blush.

"That's not what I meant either, Bard..." snarled Geralt, his eyes flickering about to make sure no one was actually listening into their conversation as it devolved into....well, Geralt wasn't sure where the conversation was going but Jaskier was having way too much fun with the fact it was making the Witcher squirm a bit.

Geralt was quick to change topics, mainly because The Voice still had him curious as to why it was suddenly silent now that he was with Jaskier, had found him and had apologized. Jaskier seemed to have partly forgiven him, though he knew he needed to earn the Bard's trust back. He wouldn't blame the bard for making it hard on him either. He had been an ass and he deserved whatever the Bard did to him as part of his apology.

"Jaskier....have you....heard a woman....talking to you?" The Witcher asked, not sure exactly how to word it without it sounding like he was a marble short, as the Bard is often fond of yelling at him when he does something crazy.

"I have heard plenty a lady speak to me, Geralt. You'll need to be a bit more specific...." Jaskier quipped, not understanding what the Witcher is trying to explain.

"Not....not just any woman, Jaskier. A voice in your head....a woman's voice." Geralt says, leaning forward on the table, so his voice could be lowered and not run the risk of the Bard not hearing his words. 

Jaskier arched a brow at Geralt, confused as to what the bloody hell he was talking about. He leaned forward as well, their heads close together as if conspiring. Jaskier could feel the heat of the Witcher's breath on his face. The scent of ale, stew they ate, and a scent that was signature Geralt brushed lightly over his senses, causing the Bard to bite his bottom lip a little to keep from taking a deep breath; to breathe in Geralt's scent like a drowning man taking in a lung full of air as he broke the surface.

"wha...what do you mean, Geralt?" stumbled over his words, voice somewhat breathy as his senses recover, the Bard looks into the amber eyes of his Witcher, waiting for an explanation.

Geralt hmm'ed and leaned back for a moment as he glanced around the tavern, noticing it must be getting late, because the crowd had thinned from how it was earlier. How many hours had they been sitting there talking and drinking, the Witcher wondered. He turned his eyes back to the Bard, whom was still leaning forward, his sky blue eyes having never left his face. Geralt leans back so he was in Jaskier's space a bit as he murmured, "There...was a woman's voice....she pestered me to find you. Saying I needed to find you before it was too late..." The Witcher looked at his hands, so close to the bard's on the table. he only need stretch a finger and he'd be touching the back of the bard's hand. He was tempted to, but didn't as he cocked a brow and met the Bard's eyes once more. "Are you sure there is no woman's voice haunting you or have I finally lost that marble you keep talking about?"

Jaskier shook his head slightly, his eyes drop to the table as he thought for a moment, "No....no ghostly voices in my case, I am afraid, Witcher. Mayhaps you have dropped that marble finally?" he quipped, a small smile playing on his lips, not wanting to wonder what potent a disembodied voice urging the Witcher to find him meant for his near future. What if it was a Banshee, or some other spirit who cries of one's demise? The Bard's eyes go wide for a moment, wide enough for the Witcher to notice and lean even closer to ask quietly,"What? Did you think of something?"

Jaskier whipped his head up to stare in the Witcher's eyes. "What if it is a voice trying to warn you to get to me before.....be...before I die or something?" The Bard's voice creeped up the register, growing higher as his quickly developing panic took over.

Geralt sighed and shakes his head, dropped his hand on top of Jaskier's as he spoke,"It wasn't a Banshee, Jaskier. Relax. There no wraith form, just....a voice."

The Bard stopped listening to the Witcher, his concentration now centered strictly on the burning heat of Geralt's hand on top of his. Geralt noticed that Jaskier was now distracted from the panic he had been feeling moments prior, then noticed what had distracted the Bard. He didn't even remember moving his hand, but it rested on top of the bard's hand. He looked up at Jaskier, but the Bard's eyes were trained on their hands. He experimentally rubbed his thumb on the back of Jaskier's wrist, only to hear the softest gasp escape the Bard, like he had been shocked. He kept rubbing his thumb on the bard's wrist as he spoke,"Jaskier? Still with me, Little Lark?"

Jaskier's head snapped up at the nickname, pupils blown, but this time, not from fear. His breathing was shallow, the Bard nearly panting as he met the Witcher's golden gaze. He pulled his hand out from under Geralt's and whispered, "Don't....don't call me that, Geralt. I'm....I'm still hurt and angry at you. You don't get to use *that* nickname like nothing happened. I haven't completely forgiven you yet, you know..."

Geralt sighed, fighting the urge to grab the Bard's hand, not wanting him to pull away, not wanting him angry at him anymore. "What do you want me to say, Jaskier? That I am sorry? That I was wrong for what I said? I was. It was never your fault for my own stupidity. Do you want me to get on knee and beg your forgiveness? I'll do it. Right now..." The Witcher moved to take a knee next to the bard but Jaskier quickly waved him off.

"Stop it!" The Bard hissed, his cheeks tinged red at the fact the good folk of the tavern would take the Witcher on a knee in front of him WAY the wrong way and he didn't want that. (Or do you?) Jaskier growled at the traitorous thought in his mind as Geralt settled back in his chair.

"I want you to realize I am your FRIEND. I was there when you were hip deep in shit that destiny threw at you because that is what a FRIEND does. They try to help shovel the shit AWAY." The Bard uttered quietly as he watched the Witcher. "I want you to admit we are friends."

Geralt stared at the Bard as he spoke, feeling as if someone hit him between the eyes again with a lute. (He was never going to forget that for the rest of his life.) Did the Bard believe Geralt didn't think him a friend? Well, he hmmed to himself, he hasn't exactly SAID those words, but then again, was Jaskier JUST a friend?

_"About time you started realizing that, Witcher....now tell HIM that."_ The Voice whispered suddenly out of nowhere. Geralt had started to think it left him be once he had found the Bard. Well, obviously he was wrong on that assumption.

"Jaskier....did....did you just...did you hear a woman speaking just now?" Geralt asked, hoping maybe the Bard would have heard it now that they were together.

"Do you mean the Barmaid? Or is your mystery woman whispering sweet nothings to you again?" the sarcasm in the Bard's words not lost on the Witcher. Bitter sarcasm at that. The Bard was waiting for an apology and he asked him if he was hearing the same voice he heard. 

_"He doesn't hear me, only you do, Witcher. You are going to lose him here and now if you do not answer him true, now tell him the truth! Apologize to him before it is too late!!"_ the Voice raised near the end of it's comment, obviously sick and tired of the Witcher not listening to it's advice.

The thunderous look was starting to creep back into the Bard's eyes, thinking Geralt was trying to find ways to not apologize now that he knew what Jaskier wanted for him to say. He leaned back in his seat and huffed, "Never mind, Witcher. You obviously can't say the words...." He pushed himself to stand up, only to watch Geralt leap to his feet as well. 

"Jaskier, wait...." Geralt started, reaching out to touch the Bard's arm to stop him. The Bard dodged the grip, glaring at the Witcher.

"The meal was welcomed, Witcher. I am going to return to my room now. Unless we are in the same inn, in which case I will be seeing if one of the other inns in the city has a room open..." Jaskier hissed between his clenched teeth, fighting down the pain rising in his chest. He felt stupid, thinking Geralt would say anything. He was asking a lot of the Witcher, but damn it, he loved the man and he wanted the Witcher to admit he was a friend at the very least!

The Bard moved quickly toward the door, using tables to keep the Witcher from being able to stop him as he burst out the door and onto the street. Geralt growled deeply as he moved rapidly to catch the Bard, who was already speed walking down the street. Geralt's longer stride allowed him to catch up with the Bard easily enough. He grabbed the younger man by the upper arm, spinning him around into the alley nearby before the bard could even yell. 

Jaskier looked at him angrily, seething and about to yell his head off at the Witcher that he didn't have any right to grab him like a common street thug and drag him into an alley....when something the Bard swears to this day he will always remember. The Witcher shoved him against the wall of the alley, pinning the Bard with his lower body as his hands planted against the wall on either side of the Bard's head. The Bard still glared up at the Witcher, STILL planning on yelling, when the Witcher leaned into him, startling soft lips brushed against his, silencing the Bard from uttering protest at being manhandled. 

The first kiss was barely even a kiss. Just a brush of lips, to be honest. The second kiss though, the second kiss blazed fire down nerves as teeth nipped at lips, tongues fought for dominance, growls and moans swallowed like the sweetest wine. The Bard quickly wrapped his arms up around the Witcher's neck as the larger man crowded the smaller against the wall, bodies pressed together, two pieces of a whole. Jaskier's fingers buried themselves into the locks of the Witcher, tugging insistently, while the Bard gave as good as he got from the Witcher. Geralt's hands were cradling the Bard's face while his mouth devoured the whimpers and moans of pleasure escaping the Bard's lips.

Geralt finally pulls away from the Bard's lips, though it was a feat of strength of will on his part. He wanted nothing more than to keep kissing the man in his arms until the taste of him was branded into his memory. Jaskier looked up at Geralt, pushing up on his toes to try to recapture the Witcher's lips, only to have Geralt chuckle deeply, a rumbling in his chest that made the Bard whine as he fought harder to get those lips back on his. Geralt had the advantage though, managing to hold the wiry Bard at bay as he murmured,"Now do you understand what you mean to me?"

Jaskier stopped his struggles to regain those sweet plump lips as he heard what Geralt said. Biting his bottom lip as he looked up at the larger man, he quipped, "You might need to tell me more.....repeatedly.....with possible nudity involved...."

The Witcher snorted at the Bard's sass, only to growl lowly against the Bard's ear,"Possible nudity?"

Jaskier nearly swallowed his tongue at the growl because it did such delightfully wicked things to his insides. He whined loudly, "Definitely nudity, most definitely nudity involved...."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, you thirsty animals! You wanted some smut with this, so here we go! 
> 
> The Boys get loud and frisky, and all but one person in the tavern below blushed. Wonder why?

_The smut you have all been waiting for, you thirsty peeps! XD_

How the two bumbling fools made it to a room in the Inn they just left, neither could remember. Jaskier distinctly remembered Geralt half dragging/half carrying him down the street to the inn, tossed coin on the bar and snarled for a key to a room. The Innkeeper started to complain, but saw the look in the Witcher's eyes and tossed him the key to the "honeymoon" room on the 3rd floor. 

Geralt remembered literally carrying the bard up the stairs to their room, growling at the bard to unlock the door, then kicking it open once the lock was opened. He kicked it closed after stepping in and spinning with the Bard still in his arms, Jaskier peppering kisses along his jaw, making the larger man rumble lowly in his chest. Soon as the door slammed shut, Jaskier suddenly found himself once more pinned to a hard surface with the Witcher towering over him, plundering his lips, kisses so passionate and bruising, the Bard was sure his lips would look extra pouty for days after...that is if the Bard could think clearly. At the moment, he was busy thinking of how to get Geralt out of those ridiculously tight leather pants he wore (Did the man NOT know how sinful his ass looked like cupped is supple leather like a god damn second skin?!?!) as well as how to get Geralt to not take him up against the wall like some sort of whore. (Well, in all honestly, he knew he would be the biggest slut for his Witcher, but he didn't need to let the dense man KNOW that .....yet.)

Geralt growled lowly in his chest, like the sound of far off thunder of an oncoming storm. The Bard tasted of wine, vanilla, and citrus as the Witcher kept up the plundering of Jaskier's mouth with his. The feeling of Jaskier whimpering against his lips, swallowing the Bard's moans as the smaller man ground against the taller, made the Witcher feel drunk with desire. How could the man be so aggravatingly annoying, not shut up to save his life (which, on many counts, the Bard HAD nearly lost his life because he wouldn't bloody shut his trap!) , yet be so devastatingly delicious and fit against the Witcher's body like he had been made to?   
Jaskier managed to wiggle a hand down between their bodies, the other still buried, fingers tangled in the silvery locks of his Witcher (HIS Witcher, he liked the sound of that!). With fingers nimble from many years of lute playing, the Bard stroked them teasingly along the more than obvious bulge of Geralt's leather pants. (DID THE MAN SERIOUSLY NEED TO WEAR PANTS THIS TEMPTING?!?!) Geralt muffled his groan against the Bard's lips, which made the Bard feel quite proud. He was made the great Geralt of Rivia moan in pleasure! Though, at the same time, the Bard ached desperately for the Witcher to touch him. He wanted to feel those immense hands curl around his hips as the Witcher bent him over and drove into him like he was possessed. He wanted to feel the Witcher's throbbing cock breach him, split him in two with pleasure. Oh, he wanted that so urgently that he bit down on the Witcher's bottom lip and growled, breaking the kiss to rasp, "Fucking damn it, Geralt! Fucking fuck me already, you damn big bastard!"

The Witcher was way ahead of the Bard on that thought process as her let his hands drop down, scoop up two handfuls of Bard ass, and hoisted the bard up against him as he walked backwards toward where the bed would be. Soon as he felt the edge of the bed against the backs of his legs, the Witcher allowed himself to fall back, taking the bard with him. The Bard let a yelp out as he bounced against Geralt's chest, only to sit up a little so he could grind his own raging erection against his Witcher's. "Geraaaaaaaalt....!" the Bard groaned, tugging at the laces of the Witcher's breeches, wanting the offending leathers OFF so that he could get off on Geralt's dick up his ass. 

Geralt took pity on the poor lust addled Bard, making quick work of both his breeches and small clothes, as well as the Bard's. A sound, close to almost a purr thrummed from the Witcher as he ran his hands down the naked flanks of his Bard, feeling the silken skin under his callused fingers. The Bard, on the other hand, gasped as his pants and smalls were tugged off him (more like RIPPED off him. Damn silk was weak against the might of a horny Witcher, thought the bard.), only to groan as his cock sprang free from it's trappings, gasping as it slapped against the heated length of Geralt's own impressive member. "Oh dear Melitele!" the bard groaned as his eyes grew huge at the sight of his lover's cock. "Please tell me you have oils meant for something other than slaying beasts in that pack of yours, Witcher, because I am not sure that beast of yours will fit..."

The Witcher cursed, because his pack was back at HIS room at the inn on the other side of town! The Bard shook his head at Geralt as he reached for the strap of his lute, which had SOMEHOW managed to make it into the room with them somehow despite the groping and the pawing and the mauling and the molesting of faces with lips and teeth. In the strap was a small pocket with a simple glass vial. Slender so it wouldn't be really noticed on the strap, but containing a seed oil that the Bard handed to Geralt, a smirk on his lips.

"Linseed oil for keeping my lute shiny and smooth. Should work just as well for a bit of polish and slicking, don't you think?"

The Witcher let out a low growl, a answering smirk played across his features as he took the small vial from his Bard, before pushing himself up to kiss him again, claiming those sweet, sinful lips in a searing kiss. Geralt dropped the vial next to him on the bed as he reached out and started to tug the Bard's shirt off his form, wanting the bard completely nude. He wanted to taste every inch of his Bard and he planned on doing so, but the urgency in his loins was making it so he didn't think he would manage to get that far this first time, but he'd be damned if he didn't get to once they got the initial conflagration of lust settled down. 

The Bard lifted his arms, letting Geralt remove the offending clothing, only to whine as the Witcher dragged his fingers over his bared chest, nails teasing, raising soft red lines on the pale Bard's skin. Geralt ripped his own shirt off over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room before he fell back on the bed, dragging the Bard down to him, claiming the bard's mouth with his as he popped the cork on the vial. Jaskier whimpered as he returned the Witcher's hungry kisses, letting the White Wolf raid his mouth with his tongue, feeling the Witcher's teeth gently bit down on his bottom lip, making the Bard moan even louder. Good Goddess, the man knew how to kiss and Jaskier started to worry he might just cum from Geralt's devouring kisses.

The Witcher distracted the Bard by trailing soft biting kisses along his jaw, making the Bard whimper and keen softly, while his one hand cupped and kneaded a firm cheek of the Bard's ass. His other hand held the uncorked vial, holding it palmed so the warmth of his hand would warm the oil inside before he reached up and drizzled a thin line of the oil into the cleft between the globes of the Bard's ass. Jaskier moaned a little louder as he felt the oil slide down over his puckered hole, only to feel the thick callused finger of his Witcher softly stroke and massage the oil against his opening. Jaskier bit back a sob as he pushed back suddenly, pressing Geralt's thick digit past the pucker ring of muscle, making the Bard gasp. Geralt held his finger still, drizzling a little more oil down over the Bard's hole before pressing his finger in deeper. Jaskier whined loudly, his pucker clenching tightly around the Witcher's finger. At first, Geralt thought to pull his finger free and stop, but the Bard growled as if he sensed what the Witcher was going to, hissing,"DON'T you DARE stop, damn it! More....please, more!"

Geralt did not wish to deny his little lark, pulling his finger nearly out, only to press in two this time. Jaskier whined loudly, nails digging into the shoulders of the Witcher, hissing at the stretch, but loving it all the same. Geralt careful started moving his fingers in and out, scissoring them to help stretch his Bard. Jaskier whined and groaned, working his hips against the push and pull of Geralt's fingers inside him, his throbbing cock leaking precum against Geralt's also leaking member. The Bard reached between them to stroke his fingers over both shafts, only to have the Witcher growl loudly, nipping the Bard's ear. "Don't do that if you want me to last, Jaskier. You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now..." he rumbled.

Breathlessly, the Bard chuckled and murmured,"What happened to the endless stamina of a Witcher, Geralt? Was that all fabrication?" Geralt's answer was to shove a third thick digit into the Bard, spreading the tight muscled ring so he could fit him, making the Bard cry out in a mixture of pleasure and just a tiny bit of soreness. No pain, gods, no. Geralt was making sure that Jaskier felt no pain that he didn't want. He knew from the Bard's stories he did like a LITTLE pain with his pleasure. Love bites, nails on his back that left marks for days, and apparently the sting of being just this shy of too full.

The Witcher finally had enough, his cock throbbing just this side of painful. He slipped his fingers free of the grip of the Bard, only to hear Jaskier keen loudly at the loss. "I got you, songbird. Just gotta..." he grunted as he slicked his dick with the oil, groaning as he bit down on his bottom lip to keep from just finishing himself off now, so he'd last longer the second round for Jaskier. The Witcher looked at the Bard and the sight was enough to nearly undo the Witcher then and there. Sky blue eyes so blown open, they were practically black, lips swollen and cherry red from bruising kisses and bites, cheeks flushed a brilliant scarlet, skin gleaming in the light of the room from the Bard's sweat. He was ethereal to Geralt as a low rumbling growl escaped the Witcher. With his inhuman strength, he lifted his Bard as if he was light as a handful of grapes, setting Jaskier down so the brunt head of the Witcher's cock pressed against the puckered ring of his ass. 

"Yessssssssss.....oh gods, _YESSSS!_ " the Bard hissed as he pressed down, the burning stretch as Witcher's cock slowly sank into him made the Bard wiggle his hips to try to press down so the Witcher was bottomed out inside him. After breathless minutes, both men let out loud groans as Geralt finally....FINALLY buried his cock to the hilt in his Bard's backside. Jaskier leaned over Geralt, his breathing a hard pant as he let himself adjust to feeling so fucking FULL. Geralt's fingers dug bruises into the Bard's hips, not that Jaskier minded in the least. Soon as he was ready, he rolled his hips, dragging a whimper out of himself and a low deep growl from his lover beneath him. Geralt lifted his legs, planting his feet against the mattress as he got a better grip on Jaskier's hips. He rumbled at the Bard,"Hang on, little lark...." 

"What do you mean hang oooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnn.... _OOOOOOOOOOOHGODSYESSSSSSS!_ " The Bard started to ask what the Witcher meant, only to feel that steel grip move on his hips as if to lift him a little, then the next moment......

The Witcher's hips were like a jackhammer, pounding rapid fire fast up into the Bard, using his legs to pistol himself in and out of that tight, slick heat that was Jaskier's body. The Bard was clinging to the Witcher's shoulders, nails biting into flesh as the Bard yowled in pleasure. The sharp sting of the Bard's nails made the Witcher shift his hips a little, adjust his grip and pound even harder, faster into the lithe man's body. The bard threw his head back, keening loudly as the slight shift caused the head of Geralt's thick cock to start hitting that bundle of nerves inside that made Jaskier see white in ecstasy. The screams of the Bard only egging the Witcher on, wanting to drag out as many screams of pleasure he could out of his Songbird, because he knew he wouldn't last long in this tight heat. Not this first time, not after wanting it for far longer than he was willing to admit to himself.

Jaskier's cock wept copious amounts of precum, slicking both his and Geralt's stomachs. The bard felt like he was in flames, like a phoenix, about the be reborn from the flames of his Witcher's desire. He leaned down, pressing his chest against Geralt's, catching his cock between their bodies, whimpering as his cock slid in the slickness, wanting to cum so badly. The bard begged, pleaded with his Witcher, and his Witcher heard him. One hand slid from his hip, the other hand tightening just that much more, Jaskier knowing he would have Geralt's handprints on his hips for WEEKS after this. The freed hand curled around the smaller man's shaft, fisting the Bard's dick in time with the thrusts of the Witcher. The Bard yowled even louder, his body singing with heat and pleasure, The Witcher grunting as his hips started to loose their smooth yet fast pattern. Jaskier threw his head back and screamed,"PLEASE! OH FUCK PLEASE!" Geralt dug his heels into the bed, bucking his hips violently up as he howled with his release, Jaskier following the Witcher over the edge of the abyss, his body tightening like a bow as the pleasure of his release crashed into him. His climax nearly caused the Bard to black out from the over stimulation of it all; feeling himself explode his cum all over Geralt's fist, feeling Geralt's cock get impossibly bigger before feeling the searing heat of the Witcher's climax fill him. The pleasure was nearly too much for the poor Bard to take as he collapsed against the Witcher's chest, his heart racing so fast, he was sure it was going to leap out of his mouth any second.

Geralt's own climax nearly struck the Witcher blind from it's intensity, his vision going white as he emptied himself into the tight heat of his Bard. As he started to come down from his orgasm, he felt Jaskier collapse against his chest. His hand that had been tightly clamped on the Bard's hip slid up Jaskier's back, soothing the panting man on him. A small smile quirked the Witcher's lips as he inhaled. The room stank of sex and he highly doubted the room had been sound proof with how loudly his little lark sang, but the Witcher didn't care at the moment. He slipped his hand that had been cupping Jaskier's cock free, the Bard whimpering but not moving. The Witcher hushed his lover, making quick work to wipe his hand clean on the fur on the blanket before wrapping his arms around the Bard. They were messy enough without Geralt spreading Jaskier's spend on his own back. Geralt hmmm'd, realizing they were going to need to call for a bath now....and the room reeked of sex and he and Jaskier were covered with each other's cum. The thought of Jaskier hiding under a blanket while the servers brought in a tub and heated water like he was some maiden made the Witcher chuckle softly.

"Mmmmm...what are YOU chuckling about, sir?" mutttered the exhausted Bard, his voice a wreck from screaming his pleasure. Great, thought Jaskier. I am going to need to drink some tea and honey later!

Geralt stroked his fingers through the Bard's hair and rumbled,"We need a bath....you going to be ok if I call for one?"

The Bard snorted, lifting his head to give the Witcher a stern, if not extremely fucked out look. "Listen here....I am not some simmering maiden. Plus....ummm...I kinda wasn't quiet." Jaskier wrinkled his nose then pushed himself up,"But yes, a bath is definitely needed because, Oh my goddess, Geralt, you stink of road and sex!"

The Witcher chuckled, only to make the bard whine and smack him firmly on the chest. "DON'T LAUGH WHEN YOU ARE STILL IN ME, YOU HORSE'S ARSE!"

This, of course, only served to make the Witcher grin wickedly and laugh even more, which caused the Bard to whine and squirm more, which lead to..... yeah, no one got a bath just yet.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Down in the Tavern, where everyone had tried to ignore the sounds of sex coming from two floors above, a cloaked figure sat at a corner table. A small chuckle had escaped the figure when they had seen Geralt practically carry the Bard in, rent a room and then proceed to embarrass 99% of the Tavern's patrons with the noises coming from upstairs. The cloaked figure wasn't embarrassed in the least. After all, they were the one who had been urging the Witcher to go find his Bard and the results were exactly what they had been expecting. 

The Barmaid came by the table where the cloaked figure sat. "I apologize for the ruckus. Can I get you a drink?" A deep blush coloring the barmaid's cheeks. The figure flipped back their hood, russet hair falling around their face as they glanced at the poor blushing lass. The barmaid made a slightly startled sound, the figure was that of a woman, pale golden skin, russet red hair, icy green eyes. The woman smiled at the barmaid and shook her head. "No, thank you, my dear. I was just...making sure something was fixed and it sounds like it was." The Sorceress' smile growing wider as she chuckled at the deepening blush on the maid's cheeks.

Pushing up from the table, she handles the barmaid a note. "Please...when the gentlemen come down, or call for refreshment, please be sure the silver haired one gets this." The barmaid looked at the note and nodded, not that she could read it herself. The woman smiled again, pressed a couple crowns into the barmaid's hand as well before making her way out of the tavern. 

When Geralt and Jaskier finally called for a bath to their room, the note was also taken up with the tub and heated water. The note was simple enough, just a few words and a name signed at the bottom that made the Witcher crumble the note with a growl and the Bard look at him startled. Geralt looked at Jaskier and decided that the woman was right in the note, but the fact it was HER was what made him growl. A woman whom he had not seen since that fateful day when he had gotten off the cart to get water for her, only to return to the road and find her gone. A woman who knew that he needed the Bard before he even knew it and made sure he got him back. A woman who had apparently been keeping tabs on him, despite leaving him to the tender mercies of the Witchers.....

The note only read,

"You listened to me after all. You need your Little Lark, Geralt. He is your Humanity and your Heart.

Your Mother, Visenna of Rivia"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnnnnnnnd finished! 
> 
> There will be more stories coming soon. I got a few quick one chapter ones I am going to be whipping up so no worries. More to come!


End file.
